


fools in old-style hats and coats

by jaqhad (kyrilu)



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics), Star Wars: Doctor Aphra (Comics)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24052522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/jaqhad
Summary: The fourth time Vulaada tries to steal Commander Skywalker’s lightsaber, General Cracken summons Magna to his cave office and tells her to keep the girl under control.
Relationships: Vulaada Klam & Magna Tolvan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	fools in old-style hats and coats

The fourth time Vulaada tries to steal Commander Skywalker’s lightsaber, General Cracken summons Magna to his cave office and tells her to keep the girl under control. 

“With all due respect, sir,” Magna says, “she’s not my responsibility.” 

He gives her a look. “You're more than familiar with the circumstances that led to her arrival here. We can’t exactly send her off-planet because that poses a major security risk, and truthfully, her assistance with the tauntauns has been invaluable. She must learn to behave herself.”

“I don’t exist to clean up after Aphra’s messes.” She’s surprised that she says it -- she’s usually not the type of soldier who argues with a superior officer -- but she really, really _doesn’t_ , and it isn’t as if the Rebel Alliance has their own disciplinary firing squads.

(Yes, that had been a shock to her, too.)

Cracken merely says, “Keep an eye on the girl, Captain Tolvan. We won’t tolerate this if it happens again,” and it’s a clear dismissal.

And, fine, maybe there’s still enough of that obedient soldier left in Magna Tolvan that she bites out, “Yes, sir,” and strides out of the cavernous room. 

Vulaada is standing in the icy corridor with her arms crossed, leaning against her giant worm. She has a sullen expression on her face, even though dwarfed in an oversized starbird-logo-adorned jacket someone had given her, the fuzzy hood pulled up over her blond hair.

She says, “Luke thought it was funny.” 

Magna almost replies -- _Commander Skywalker would think it was funny if he caught you poisoning his hot blue milk with affide crystals and you told him you accidentally confused it with marshmallows --_ but she reminds herself of a lesson Inspector Thanoth once taught her about restraint. Instead, she says out loud, “The Rebel Alliance is no place for petty thieves.” 

“Good thing I’m not a rebel, then.” 

“You’re living with rebels for the duration. Go bother the doctor.” Magna hasn’t seen Korin Aphra around lately, since she’s been occupied setting up the base defenses -- but she assumes he’s somewhere in the sprawling network of caves. 

“The old man wanders around asking everyone stories about the Jedi,” the girl says, grumpily. “He’s moved on from Luke and keeps following around this big hairy purple guy, who apparently knew _two_ Jedi. I think the purple guy’s going to actually murder him.” 

Magna says, “I don’t care. Find another way to entertain yourself that doesn’t involve pestering the Alliance’s famed Jedi hero.” 

Vulaada scowls. Her worm mirrors her, giant teeth flashing and red eyes glimmering. Magna doesn’t flinch. “I thought I’d be off this rock soon. It’s cold -- your rations taste worse than the literal garbage I ate while living on Milvayne’s streets -- and I’m not a fan of being treated like the Alliance’s pet tauntaun whisperer.”

Mimicking a gruff older voice, Vulaada parrots, “‘Kid, my tauntaun kicked me the other day, make it stop doing that.’ ‘I think these tauntauns are sick; what d’you mean they get tired after you make them haul supplies for hours?’” Her tone drops to its normal pitch. “Stupid. Stupid, stupid rebels.” 

“Would you rather be left in the Empire’s care again?” Magna asks rhetorically, and something in Vulaada’s eyes flickers, because _that_ would be her fate if she left Hoth and was caught. She’s a known associate of Aphra’s, and that never bodes well. 

It certainly didn’t for Magna. 

The girl lets out a huff of a breath, a cloud of warmth in the chilling air. “No. I wouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna like being here. It doesn’t mean that I’m committed to some big cause to save the galaxy.” 

“There are many reasons why one might join the Alliance,” Magna says. “Wide-eyed idealism isn’t always one of them. Find something to do. Make yourself useful in ways besides tauntaun herding. And you will not get me involved in your antics again. _That’s_ my order to you, and you will follow it.” 

She wants to end it with a threat -- _I will feed you to a wampa; I will lock your worm in a shuttle and jettison it into a black hole_ \-- but she decides that this firmness is sufficient.

There’s a fleeting spark of protest on Vulaada’s face, her mouth pouting, her eyebrows curving, but, eventually, she deflates. “Fine. But you should know, I’m not -- I’m not just one of Aphra’s messes.” 

About to walk away, Magna pauses. She’s wearing layers of clothes to combat the cold, but now she looks down at her covered arms. Underneath, there are lines of electro-tattoos, inactive and silent. Sometimes, in her dreams, she thinks they whisper to her in Aphra’s voice, playful and teasing and light. But it is only that: a dream. 

She says, “You’re not. I’m aware.” 

The next day, Vulaada finds the control room cave that Magna’s working in and begins poking at the holo-displays, making suggestions and providing running commentary. It’s not the outcome Magna was hoping for -- and Vulaada even liberates several technicians of their chronos in the process -- but at least she doesn’t try stealing Commander Skywalker’s lightsaber again.

However, that doesn’t mean the kid is Magna’s ward or anything.


End file.
